My Little Girl
by kazumigirl
Summary: Vegeta was once a proud Saiyan prince-not afraid of anything. Several years later, he has a teenage daughter screaming in his face and he's afraid of more things than he can count. What changes such a warrior?


**My Little Girl**

"Daa-aad!" Bra shrieked from across the house, which was a fairly large house-so the ability to actually hear somebody screaming from the other side was pretty unusual in itself, but Vegeta was in the training room-sealed off by heavy doors. That's how loud his fourteen-year old daughter actually was.

"Dad! Dad!" She opened the door, careful not to step in where gravity would take its toll. Unlike her father and brother, Bra did not train, had never trained, and could not support herself in the chamber. "Didn't you hear me? I was calling you for , like, ten minutes."

"Yes, I heard you," Vegeta grunted, punching the air. "That doesn't mean I intended to answer you." He paused long enough to wipe sweat from his forehead. "What do you want?"

Bra let her eyeballs roll back in their sockets dramatically and crossed her arms. "Mom told me I could buy a new outfit for Kiki's party and I can't find the credit card she left."

Vegeta stopped punching and frowned at her. "What party? Who's Kiki?"

"Kiki Spritz," Bra said, as if the name would somehow jog her father's memory. "She spent the night last weekend. Remember, Dad?"

Vegeta pondered this briefly. An annoying girl, flirted with Trunks all evening, stayed up all night giggling and screaming, "OMIGAWD!" from Bra's room…if Kiki was _that_ girl, then there was a reason he had not remembered who she was. Nobody would want to remember Kiki Spritz. He muttered something and his daughter took it as an answer.

"Anyway," she continued. "I need your credit card since I can't find Mom's." She held out her hand. "Give it to me, please."

Vegeta stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"The credit card-you know…little square piece of plastic-" she made the shape with her fingers. "You take them places and it buys you things-"

"I know what a credit card is!" Vegeta snarled. He continued punching nothing. "I don't approve of you just demanding it from me. I am not only your father, but the prince of-"

"The prince of saiyans," Bra finished, throwing her arms up in the air. "Protector of this planet, yadda, yadda, yadda…okay, geez, I'm sorry." She sighed and smiled sweetly. "Daddy, may I please borrow your credit card so I can look nice for the party I'm going to tonight?"

"Tell me about this party," Vegeta said, beginning to stretch. "I want to know where it is, who's going to be there, how late you'll be out, and what you plan to do there."

"You are so nosey!" Bra squeaked.

"Doesn't matter," Vegeta grunted. "You're not setting foot outside this door until I get some answers."

Bra groaned and sighed at the same time. "It's Kiki's birthday party. A few kids from school will be there. It's a dance party, Daddy. We're going to dance."

"What kind of dancing?" Vegeta asked, going over to the heavy-industrial, super-human weight set.

"I dunno…" Bra faltered. "Regular dancing, I guess." She glanced at the clock on her cell phone. "But Dad, if I don't hurry, I'm going to be totally late."

"I've seen how younglings dance these days," Vegeta said, pumping iron. " 'bumping' and 'grinding'."

"Daddy!" Bra's face turned red. "Don't use terms like that! It sounds weird when you say it!"

"Will there be boys?" He asked, clicking the weights together a little harder than he had a few minutes before.

"A few…" Bra looked away. "Not many, I'm sure…" If there was one thing she knew the limits of, it was boys. Her father did not tolerate them under any circumstances. In nursery school, Lucas Star had put a fruit loop on Bra's finger and told her they were married. The next day, after Vegeta had confronted him about it, Lucas was too scared to return and his parents had him transferred to another school.

"When can I expect you home?" Her father continued, not looking at her.

"Midnight?" Bra shrugged.

"AANNT!" Vegeta made a TV-wrong-answer buzzing sound and Bra rolled her eyes.

"Eleven?"

"Try again."

"Ten-thirty…"

"One more time."

"Daddy! Not before ten-thirty!" Bra stomped her foot. "You are sooo unfair to me! You let Trunks do whatever he wants, but you stay on me like I'm some little kid! I hate you! I wish I had never been born!" She burst into tears.

"I guess you don't want to go," Vegeta stopped to wipe his face with a towel. "Doesn't hurt my feelings one bit."

The tears stopped. "Okay, okay. Nine-thirty?"

"Much better," Vegeta walked over to a bench and dug something out of his regular pants. He handed the credit card to his daughter and said, "Come home before you take off."

----

"Alright! I'm leaving!" Bra said, flying down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

" 'Leaving'?" Vegeta looked up from his dinner. "In _that_?"

Bra looked down at her outfit. A spaghetti-strap shirt that showed off her new belly-button piercing and skirt…and…oh no…the color drained from her face.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" Vegeta stormed over to her, his eyes glued to the pink stud in her navel.

"I got it done weeks ago," Bra tried to sound defensive, but she had a sinking feeling she had just glammed her way right out of Kiki's party. "Tons of kids my age are doing it, Dad."

Vegeta's face reddened and he breathed heavily through his nose for several minutes, his entire body shaking. Bra crossed her eyes over at her mother who continued to eat as if nothing was wrong. She swallowed and stood up.

"Bra, I thought I told you I didn't want you to do that," she said. She crossed her arms and Bra winced. Now both of her parents were angry.

"Mom, come on," she laughed, trying to make the whole ordeal seem like a joke. "You didn't even let me pierce my ears until I was eight, remember?"

"I'm not sure if I want you going to this party," Bulma said, still scowling. "I mean, Bra, we don't give you money so you can go out and disrespect our authority."

Bra's face fell. "But the party is in fifteen minutes!" She started to cry. "Oh my God! I get one piercing and you use it to judge my character? You two are so unfair!"

"Oh, waa," Bulma rolled her eyes. "Go upstairs to your room. You're not going to Kiki's party."

Bra mouthed a foul word and ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door. Bulma looked at Vegeta-who was now cross-eyed he was so angry. Her brows furrowed and she touched his arm. "Hey, Vegeta?"

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He fired a blast and it flew through the ceiling, making a big hole.

"Now you have to destroy my bedroom too?!" Bra squealed from upstairs. "You are the worst parents ever! Why not kick me out of the house while you're at it!"

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Bulma called up to her. She frowned at Vegeta. "That was a little over the top, don't you think?"

"Who is actually going to see her stomach?" Vegeta demanded. "Why pierce a stomach? Who is going to see it?" He growled. "It's just like when she started shaving her legs! Who's going to see them!?"

"It's almost summer, Dad!" Bra peered down through the hole. "Bikini season!"

"You will not be wearing any binbiki!" Vegeta shook a finger at her. "You will wear a wool, modest swimsuit!"

"Oh, God!" Bra turned away, disgusted.

"Vegeta," Bulma sighed. "I am upset that she disobeyed us, but you can't be mad just because she's growing up."

"She doesn't need to be walking around in spandex under-dressings on a crowded beach!" Vegeta growled. "Or sticking a bead in her navel! She's just a child!"

"She's a young woman," Bulma corrected him. "Pretty soon she will be going out with boys and experimenting things we don't want her to, but Vegeta, that's life."

"No." Vegeta shook his finger at her. "Oh, no, no, no, nooooo…that's not going to happen."

Bulma frowned at him for a moment, but then her face softened and she smiled. She walked to back door and slid it open. She motioned for him to follow her. He did. They sat down in the two-seat rocking chair and Bulma sighed into the night.

"Whatever happened to the proud prince of Saiyans?" She asked. "The one who thought love was for the weak? The one who said he thought emotions and fear were signs of weakness? Remember that guy?"

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say anything. Bulma patted his hand and started the chair. "I remember him, vaguely." She looked up at the stars. "But then, one day, he looked into the eyes of this tiny baby boy…he held him so tenderly, afraid he might break him." She leaned over and kissed him softly. "And then, a few years later, he held a baby girl, and I never saw him again. I saw a brand new man. One who feared things-things he never knew he could fear, but I fell in love with him."

"You're making me nauseous," Vegeta frowned.

"It's going to be scary," Bulma chuckled. "Letting go of them always is, but Vegeta, it's going to happen one day."

"You're a scientist," Her husband finally said, after several minutes of silence. "Create some potion to make her little again. Give me back that screaming infant in the poofy pink dress."

Bulma laughed and leaned her head on him. "I couldn't think of a better father, or man, than you."

---

Vegeta tapped on Bra's door and then opened it a crack. She was in bed, on top of her covers, playing with her ipod. She glanced at him and then turned away. Vegeta sighed and groaned at the same time, massaging his eyes with his fingertips.

"You shouldn't have disobeyed your mother," he said.

"I don't see what the big deal is, "Bra rolled back over to face him, and sat up. "It's my body, not yours or Mom's."

"It is until you grow up and leave this house." Her father rocked back and forth on his heels and picked up some cutsie knick-knack she had on her shelves-the ones he had built for her when she was a baby, and it broke between his fingers. "Oops."

"Daa-aad!" Bra stood up and collected the pieces. "Uncle Yamcha gave that to me! You just broke it!"

"Anyway," Vegeta cleared his throat. "G'night!" He quickly hurried out of the room and flew down the stairs.

"That's all?" Bulma looked at him, raising an eyebrow. She pretended to bury herself in her laptop. "You go up to her room and break Momo?"

"What's a 'Momo'?" Vegeta asked, frowning.

"Momo," Bulma rolled her eyes- the same way Bra had when talking about Kiki Spritz. "Remember, when Bra had the flu when she was four and Yamcha bought her that stupid plastic bear thing? She used to take it everywhere we went, remember?"

Vegeta couldn't remember. How on Earth did women remember such things? And why did they expect anyone else to remember? It was crazy! He only nodded as Bulma laughed and joked about Bra fighting to take Momo to different places, but his mind was anywhere but the shattered toy.

---

" 'Morning," Vegeta muttered as his daughter walked in the kitchen the next morning.

"G'morning," Bra grumbled back sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "What's that smell?" It certainly wasn't cereal-which she usually had in the mornings, even in the summer.

"I cooked breakfast," Vegeta said. Bra stared at the back of his head as he busied himself at the stove. He might as well have just told her he joined a singing barbershop quartet or something. Vegeta never cooked, or at least not any occasion where Bra could recount.

He set down a towering plate of blueberry flapjacks, bacon, sausage, eggs, ham steaks, fresh fruit, and a variety of breads. Bra's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Why did you cook breakfast? Are we out of cheerios?"

"I just felt like it," her father grumbled, sitting down to eat. He took about half of the food and began to eat. Bra put two hotcakes on her plate and took a few pieces of fresh fruit. Vegeta rolled his eyes. Bra frowned at him. "What?"

"You're Saiyan, you know," her father said. "Eat something." He pushed some more food onto her plate.

"Daddy, bacon and sausage will make my face break out, this bread will make my thighs bigger, and eggs are cholesterol bombs."

"Good God!" Vegeta scoffed. "You would have never made it at as a Saiyan warrior! So picky!"

"Like you're one to talk, "Bra retorted. "You found a hair in your food at a restaurant and went outside to throw up!"

"It was horrendous!" Vegeta defended. "I had no idea whose hair that was!"

"But you don't mind getting other people's blood and teeth all over you," Bra took a bite of her pancakes. "These are pretty good, Daddy."

"Blood is a lot less stomach-churning than hair," Vegeta said, eating two hotcakes at a time. "You always know where someone's blood has been, but not their hair."

"Daddy, you are something else," Bra shook her head. She secretly took three more pancakes and a piece of ham, hoping her father didn't see her.

After breakfast, Vegeta went to go train and Bra went upstairs to shower and get dressed. Vegeta watched her go up the stairs, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the back of Bulma, carrying a sleeping infant, himself hot on her heels, incase something bad happened along the way. The image changed and he saw a toddler barely learning to walk, crawling up the stairs after her mother like an animal, himself hot on the four-legged babbler. He sighed as he thought of something else. He saw a little girl, wrapped from head to toe in pink, carrying a sparkler in one hand, a Trick-or-treat bag in the other, buzzing up the stairs like she was fairy queen of the world.

"I don't care how big you get," he grumbled, heading for the gravity room. "You're always going to be my little girl."

The End


End file.
